


Judge and Jury

by chidorinnn



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Persona 5: Eternal Punishment, Shakespeare allusions abound, a fancy term which here means "everything goes to shit and an adult is appointed to Fix Everything"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-10-28 22:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10841184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chidorinnn/pseuds/chidorinnn
Summary: "... poise the cause in justice's equal scalesWhose beam stands sure, whose rightful causeprevails."(Henry VI, 2.1.217-219)In which the adults are the ones to awaken to the power of Persona.In which the adults fight to become the mentors, caregivers, and leaders they needed as children.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One thing about Persona 5 that I found both amazing and disappointing was how strong and well-written the adult cast of the game was. It was disappointing because aside from Sae and Sojiro, the adults are only Confidants and don't have that much of an impact on the story as a whole. I wanted a story where the adults are on the center stage and not offshoots of the original protagonist, but no such story existed, so here you go.

_"We are not the first,_

_Who with the best meaning have incurred the worst."_

_(_ King Lear _, 5.3.4-5)_

An hour before the last bell was supposed to ring, Suguru Kamoshida sent a text message. It was a Tuesday, a little more than a week into the new school term. People were already talking about the volleyball team, how such a magnificent coach would surely lead them to nationals this year. Just a few weeks ago, the parents of a graduating third year had donated a generous cheque to fund the inevitable trip. Kamoshida saw it as a bonus — a reward for a job well done.

So when he saw a red envelope in his mailbox in the staff room, he didn’t think anything of it at the time. His mind was occupied by other matters — of Ann Takamaki who maybe wouldn’t be too busy to meet him today, of Ryuji Sakamoto who had glared at him earlier that day with such malicious intent that it was a shock no other teachers saw fit to reprimand him, and of Shiho Suzui who teetered _just so_ on the brink of losing her spot on the starting lineup. 

Then Takamaki texted him back, saying that she was too busy with her part-time job to meet him. Kamoshida’s lips curled into a sneer as he all but flung his cellphone down on his desk. Who was in charge of her class this period again? Oh right, it was Ms. Chouno — how angry would she be if she learned that her student was texting boys instead of paying attention in class?

Later, he wouldn’t be able to explain what exactly compelled him to open the letter. The closest to a reasonable explanation was that he needed some good news after suffering through disappointment after disappointment — and the envelope was thick enough that there had to be something of value inside. His name was typed on the front in some impossibly beautiful script — too neat to be anyone’s natural handwriting, and yet he suspected that he wouldn’t be able to find such a font on his own computer. Inside was a card, written in that same impossibly beautiful script:

_Sir Suguru Kamoshida, patron of the cardinal sin of Lust:_  
For your actions, which have placed undue stress and terror on the students upon which you prey,   
Your heart will be stolen by this time in seven days. Should you choose to repent,  
Then you may be granted the opportunity to walk free another day,  
Should I find your remorse sufficient. If not, then  
_You will be made to pay for your crimes  
_ _With your life._

For a moment, he considered crumpling the card and throwing it away without giving it another thought. For a moment, he considered putting it all behind him and going about his life, as he should.

But then a shiver ran down his spine. He looked behind him, at the few teachers in the staff room who were looking down at their computers, at their files, everywhere except him — and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Observing his every move.

Suguru Kamoshida tucked the card back in its envelope and began a slow, solemn walk to the principal’s office.

* * *

 

One day, a short while after falling asleep, Sae Niijima found herself in a room swathed in blue velvet. It looked like a courtroom, and she might have mistaken it for a real one were it not for for the fact that everything was blue and that somehow, inexplicably, she felt at ease being here. She couldn’t remember how she got to the room, or why she came in the first place, but there were no pressing matters on her mind that compelled her to leave. 

Sitting in the judge’s chair was a man hunched over with his elbows resting on the table’s surface and his hands clasped before him. He was mostly bald, except for the few tufts of white hair falling to his shoulders, and he had a long, crooked nose. He looked just as sinister as the villains from the cartoons she used to watch with her sister, and yet she could sense no ill will from him. If he was a judge, then he was a fair one — of that, she was sure.

He looked up at her and smiled. “Welcome to the Velvet Room. My name is Igor. I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“Igor-san,” Sae greeted him politely, bowing her head. “How can I help you?”

He chuckled. “Oh no, my dear. It is I who is here to assist _you_.” Distantly, she could hear a woman singing in a soothing, operatic soprano to soft piano music. “It seems our meeting here was predestined. A guest of this room greatly desires your cooperation.”

Sae crossed her arms and bowed her head contemplatively. “Who is this guest of yours?” she asked. “Why did they not approach me directly, instead of bringing a third party into their troubles?”

“Ah, you see,” said Igor, “that has to do with the very nature of this place. This room exists between dream and reality, mind and matter.”

“How do you mean?”

Igor unclasped his hands and leaned back in his chair. “You see,” he said, “only those bound by a contract may enter this room. And so…” He snapped his fingers. Golden dust swirled at his desk below, and a sheet of paper and an ink bottle appeared. Sae frowned as she lifted the paper and began to read it. “You need not worry,” Igor continued. “All I ask is that you agree to take full responsibility for your actions.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Sae as she continued to read. Years of legal education had taught her to never sign anything, never agree to anyone’s terms and conditions without understanding their full implications first — but Igor’s contract was in a language she couldn’t understand, words and characters coalescing in patterns she didn’t recognize. She slammed the paper down on his table with an irritated huff. “You ask for the impossible.”

“Then it seems we are at an impasse.” 

Sae dipped her head into a nod. “Then if you will excuse me.” She walked away from the judge’s chair, her heels clacking against the floor in synch with the soprano’s singing. There was no point in taking on a case she couldn’t win — and she couldn’t win if she didn’t have all the information. 

But if there was one thing worse than losing a case, it was leaving any business unfinished. She stopped in her tracks, in time with a rest in the music.

“This guest of yours…” she said slowly. “What can you tell me about them?”

Though she didn’t turn to look at him, she could tell that Igor was smiling. “Ask, and I will answer what I am permitted to.”

“What is this person’s name?”

“I am not at liberty to disclose that.”

“Then have I met this person before?”

“If so, only in passing… though I cannot speak for the you of other worlds.”

“Why did they request my help specifically?”

“Because you are the only one who is able.”

Sae scoffed.. “That can’t possibly be true.”

“Then allow me to rephrase that,” said Igor. “You are the only one who is able at this given moment in time. There will be others, of course, but only if you choose to seek them out.”

She chewed on her lower lip. There was a long pause, but Igor didn’t press the matter while she considered her options. “Suppose I do agree to sign your contract,” she said. “What do I get in return?”

“You will be granted full access to this room’s facilities,” Igor replied. “I cannot tell you just yet what exactly that entails, but the details will be made clear in due time.”

“Okay then,” said Sae. “Last question: why does your guest need my help so badly?”

There was another long pause. Igor had been so decisive earlier, so persuasive — Sae considered it a victory that he hesitated now. “This guest…” he said slowly, “… has been imprisoned. Their fate lies in ruin, along with that of one other. This is not due to their actions or their choices — this is the way things simply are, and neither is in a position where they can challenge this fate.”

Sae turned to face Igor and smirked. “So there is more than one guest.”

Igor nodded. “Yes.”

“But only one of these two guests requested my assistance.”

“Yes.”

“For their own sake? Or for the sake of the other?”

“Both.”

Sae walked back to the judge’s chair. The paper was still there on Igor’s desk, but now she could read what the contract said — and nothing there bound her to anything but her own actions.

At long last, she lifted the pen from the ink bottle and signed her name. “Very well, Igor-san,” she said. “Let’s do this fair and square.”

* * *

 

The Special Investigations Unit Director was pulling into Shujin High School’s parking lot when Sae stirred awake. Before she could even think, an apology was already forming at her lips. Falling asleep in her boss’s car was unprofessional at best and grounds for dismissal at worst, but it was pointless to argue with him that she was serious about her job over something like this. She didn’t say a word of rooms swathed in blue velvet, or of the cryptic old men that inhabited them.

“Tired, Niijima-san?” asked the Director. He didn’t look or sound angry, but it was hard to tell with him. Maybe he’d reflect back on this incident later when debating whether to hand a difficult case over to her, or when reviewing her salary. 

Sae raised her hand instinctively to rub the sleep out of her eyes, but managed to stop herself before she could smudge her makeup. “My apologies,” was all she said in response. Her voice was still thick with sleep, and she cleared her throat. Her phone screen flashed blindingly bright in her lap, its light only partially obscured by her hand over it. There was an app there that she didn’t remember downloading, and she wondered if she’d somehow done so in her sleep.

“It must be nice to return to your old school,” said the Director. “Your sister is a student here, correct?”

“Yes,” Sae answered. “A third year.” But Makoto didn’t know that Sae would be coming that day. Sae herself didn’t know until just a few hours prior. “Sir…” she said slowly, uncertainly. “Is this really necessary? Forgive me, but investigating what’s little more than an urban legend seems like a waste of our resources.”

The Director pursed his lips. “So you don’t understand, Niijima-san. Perhaps I expected too much from you.” He sighed, lifting his chin with an air of condescension. “In case you weren’t aware, we have a, ah, _special_ relationship with this school’s administration. If someone in its faculty is being threatened, then the responsibility falls to us to protect them.”

“But all this for a calling card?” Sae asked. “It could easily be a prank by one of the students… in which case the responsibility falls to the school’s faculty.”

The director opened the car door and stepped outside. “So you still do not understand the gravity of the situation,” he said as he walked around and opened Sae’s door as well. “Then I will speak to the principal alone. You may question the faculty to your heart’s content. See how far their so-called _responsibility_ extends.”

Sae swallowed down any words of protest that might have surfaced, had she lost even a small bit of her self control, and nodded stiffly. “Yes sir.” 

The facts were these: the school’s esteemed volleyball coach — Suguru Kamoshida, who was promised to lead the team to nationals this year — received a calling card exactly seven days prior, signed by someone or more than one someone who called themselves the Phantom Thief. As easily as it could have been a prank, there were too many similarities between Kamoshida’s case and a string of seemingly unrelated murders that had occurred sporadically across Tokyo over the past few months. Considering that they were potentially dealing with a serial killer, according to the Director, it was necessary that the SIU get involved.

If there was one thing the murders had in common with Kamoshida’s situation, it was that the victims had all received calling cards exactly one week prior to their deaths. The cards spoke in abstract terms of ways in which they harmed the people nearest to them, and upon reporting the murders, the news stations would unveil the victims’ various misdeeds and malicious intentions before anyone had a chance to stop them. If this was to follow the pattern, then Kamoshida would die and some scandal surrounding him would come to light. It would inevitably tarnish Shujin’s reputation — it was only natural that the principal would request that the SIU interfere.

Sae and the Director parted ways at the school’s front doors, with the Director heading immediately to the principal’s office. They’d timed their visit so that they would arrive during a lunch break, but there was no guarantee that any of her old teachers were still there at Shujin. Even then, there was no telling if they would even want to speak with her on a matter like this.

There was hardly anyone in the staffroom at such a time, and Sae wondered if they’d gotten the timing wrong after all. It was unrealistic to expect any sort of grand welcome, but the few teachers that were there barely registered her presence at all. It made her feel like she was intruding on something private, or that she was meddling in affairs that hardly concerned her.

A teacher with perfectly styled hair and too much makeup looked to another with curly hair and dark circles under her eyes. The curly-haired teacher gave a long, weary sigh, and looked up at Sae without getting up from her chair. “Can I help you?” she asked blandly.

Sae cleared her throat and straightened her back. “Sorry for the intrusion,” she said politely. “I’m Sae Niijima, from the Special Investigations Unit.”

“Oh, right,” the teacher sighed. “Principal Kobayakawa said you guys would be coming today.” She sighed again, and stood up as she pushed in her chair. She was at least a dozen centimeters shorter than her, and it was hard to take her seriously with her unkempt appearance and dry manner of speech. “If you ask me, this whole thing is being blown way out of proportion,” she said. “But what can you do? Mr. Kamoshida panicked, so Principal Kobayakawa panicked…” She met Sae’s eyes. “… and now here we are.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that, Ms. Kawakami,” said the teacher with the perfectly styled hair. “Maybe I should—“

“I’ve got it, Ms. Chouno,” said Kawakami pointedly. Before Sae could say anything in response, Kawakami grabbed her hand and began pulling her out of the classroom. “Sorry, she said once they were safely outside the staffroom. “I swear, she’s been trying to undermine me since day one…”

“Isn’t that rather unprofessional of you?” Sae asked. The question came out sounding more condescending than she’d hoped.

“Is it?” Kawakami asked. Her brow furrowed in such a way that Sae felt like she was being reprimanded by a superior. Perhaps this was what it meant to be a good teacher. “Are you seriously going to include this in your report?”

“If it’s relevant to the case, yes,” Sae answered. “So, about Mr. Kamoshida—“

“Follow me,” Kawakami said. “You can talk to him yourself.” 

If her memory was correct, then Kamoshida should have been in his own office by the school gym. “What can you tell me about him?” Sae asked. “Any information you have would be beneficial.”

“What’s there to say?” Kawakami asked. “The volleyball team’s probably going to make it to nationals this year, so parent and sponsor donations have been flying in like crazy. He’s good at what he does, and everyone knows it.”

“Can you think of any reason why someone would want him dead?”

“Honestly? The only thing I can think of is jealousy. He’s nice enough as a coworker, so I don’t have a problem with him. I don’t think anyone else in the school’s faculty does.”

As they reached the gyms, Kawakami led Sae to a door at the end of a long hallway. “And the students? How do they feel about him?”

“It’s hard to say. The students in the volleyball club don’t talk about him that much, but they’re all quite dedicated. They practice a lot, you know.” Kawakami stopped, and rubbed her chin contemplatively. “Come to think of it, a lot of the students come out of practice with bruises and injuries… I always thought that it was because they were pushing themselves so hard since nationals is coming up, but now that I think about it…” As if suddenly remembering where she was and who she was talking to, Kawakami jolted into place, her back snapping straight as she met Sae’s eyes with forced calm. “A-Anyway, you’ll probably learn a lot more about this from him than me.” She twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. “So if you’ll excuse me…”

Inside the office was Kamoshida — but Kamoshida made no move to even register their appearance. He wasn’t moving at all — he sat reclined in his chair, his head hanging back and his mouth partially open. Something dark had trickled down his chin and dried, and his eyes were wide open, rolled into the back of his head. There was nothing grand about the man sitting here — nothing of the strength and determination it surely took to lead a high school sports team to the national stage.


	2. Chapter 2

****NAME: SUGURU KAMOSHIDA  
AGE: 26  
SEX: MALE  
CAUSE OF DEATH: STROKE

Sae sighed and massaged her temples as she glared at the autopsy report on her desk. No matter how she looked at it, it made no sense — it simply should not have been possible for such a young, healthy man to die so suddenly from something like this, outside of a freak accident. There had been no evidence of external trauma, or that he’d ingested anything poisonous. He hadn’t complained that he felt ill, and none of the hospitals near the school or his home reported seeing him. “How did he _do_ it?”

“Do what?”

In an instant, Sae composed herself, straightening her back and trying to look productive. Her junior apprentice of sorts peered at her from his cubicle across the room, a single brow arched in curiosity. Goro Akechi was hardly a threat, by any means, but he was good enough at what he did and a celebrity, which could easily spell the end of Sae’s career if she didn’t regard him carefully.

She cleared her throat and drummed her fingers over the autopsy report. “Surely you’ve heard of the Kamoshida case.”

“But of course,” Akechi answered, narrowing his eyes in a perfect depiction of concern. “How awful, for those Shujin students to have to face something like this… Your sister is a student there, right? Though I must say, it’s strange that you’re treating this as a murder.”

“He did receive a calling card,” Sae said with a heavy sigh. “I don’t get it. This dubious Phantom Thief personally delivers a warning, and one week later, the target is found dead, though not by external means. What are his _methods_?”

“Oh, so you don’t know…” said Akechi. “Perhaps it’s something to do with demographics.”

“Just what do you mean by _demographics_?”

Instead of responding to her, he began typing something on his laptop. A few seconds later, he motioned for her to come to his cubicle. “The Phantom Aficionado Website…?” she mumbled to herself, frowning at the black and red interface of the website he’d pulled up.

“Phan-site for short,” Akechi retorted. “The legend goes like this: you input the name of someone you want eliminated into this site. If the Phantom Thief deems this person a target worth his time, he will carry out your request. It’s all anyone at my school talks of, these days.”

“So for the Phantom Thief to have targeted Kamoshida, someone had to have inputed his name onto this site.”

“Correct.”

“What is the Phantom Thief’s criteria for carrying out requests?” 

“Supposedly, criminals whose misdeeds cannot be brought to justice due to systems of power that protect them. Apparently, the Phantom Thief helped a second-year at my school deal with her abusive boyfriend… though this is all baseless rumor. Nothing concrete, I’m afraid.”

“And you know all this… because of rumors in your high school?” Sae rubbed her chin and frowned. “Then perhaps it’s not too much of a stretch to assume that these rumors spread from your school to Shujin.”

“It’s certainly likely.”

“That would indicate that the perpetrator is most likely a student at Shujin.”

Akechi frowned. “No, the perpetrator is the Phantom Thief.”

“But if what you’re saying is correct,” Sae retorted, “then the Phantom Thief is little more than a hired assassin. Kamoshida would never have been targeted had someone not inputted his name on the… Phan-site.” But a high school rumor was never going to hold up as evidence in a court of law. “I need more information.” She slung her handbag over her shoulder and gripped her phone tightly as she kicked her chair closer to her desk.

Akechi smiled and waved as she left the office. “Good luck with the investigation!”

* * *

During lunch break, Ann Takamaki went to pick up Shiho Suzui from her classroom, before heading to a bench in Shujin’s school courtyard. They sat contentedly together, Ann with her melon bread purchased from the school cafeteria and Shiho with her lunchbox packed from home, and talked about everything and nothing. It was a ritual of theirs, performed countless times over the past several years.

“So anyway, there’s this place that serves the most _amazing_ crepes,” said Ann, “and we should totally go after—oh wait, just kidding. You have practice today, don’t you?”

Shiho prodded her food with her chopsticks. “I’m not going,” she said quietly.

Ann exhaled slowly, and paused to consider her words. Anything concerning Mr. Kamoshida or the volleyball team was a delicate subject, and the last thing she wanted was to put any more pressure on Shiho than she already had to deal with. “Are you sure it’s okay for you to be missing so much practice? You haven’t gone this whole week…”

“It’s fine,” Shiho replied. “A lot of the senpais are doing it, too.”

“But…” _But Shiho, you love volleyball_ , was what Ann wanted to say, but Shiho could be rather stubborn about things like this, once her mind was made up.

“It’s okay,” Shiho said, as if she’d read her mind. “Things will be a lot better once all of this stuff with Mr. Kamoshida settles down. I’m sure of it.”

Then, a boy with dark hair approached them, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Um…” he mumbled so quietly that it was a wonder that Ann and Shiho even heard him.

“Hey, Mishima-kun!” Ann greeted him cheerfully. “What’s up?”

“The police are here again today,” he said. “I just wanted to let you guys know, in case you run into them or something.”

“Ugh, again?” Ann groaned. “Haven’t they had enough? They should be going after that Phantom Thief guy, not us!”

“But the Phantom Thief would never have come here if someone hadn’t called on him…” Mishima replied wearily.

“But still, that doesn’t mean—“ The loud clack of a lid falling onto Shiho’s lunchbox cut Ann off. The girl’s expression was troubled, her brow furrowed as she chewed on her lower lip. “Shiho? Are you okay?”

Shiho shook her head and stood up from the bench. “It’s nothing.” She walked away without another word.

Mishima gave Ann a strained, forced smile. “W-We should get going, too.” 

Ann waited a few seconds to follow him back to class. As she did, she looked down at her cellphone — still and silent, as it had been for nearly a week, for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

* * *

 

Sadayo Kawakami looked up at the prosecutor with narrowed eyes and hoped that she didn’t look as fed up with the situation as she felt. It was only the second time Sae Niijima had deigned to visit the school for official business, but the students were already talking about it enough that it was clear that they considered her appearance a cause for fear and anxiety.

Less than a week ago, upon finding her coworker’s dead body, Sadayo was called in immediately for questioning. The lead detective for the case, as well as Niijima herself, kept her there for so long that she missed a night of work. It wasn’t like the police would have paid her for her time, but there was no way she could tell them that.

She sighed as she massaged her temples, and took as long as she damn well pleased to respond to Niijima’s questioning. She _really_ didn’t get paid enough for this. “So you’re telling me,” she said, “that you came back here because you wanted to investigate a high school rumor?”

Niijima’s eye twitched, and Sadayo fought the urge to snicker at her expense. “I’m here to investigate a murder, Ms. Kawakami,” she said. “One that one of your students could have very well perpetrated.”

Sadayo grit her teeth together and balled her hands into fists in her lap. The idea of selling out a student didn’t sit well with her at all. She thought of the student who had just transferred into her class, the one with a criminal record — assault, the reports had said, and yet it was still so hard to believe once you met him, even with all those nasty rumors following him wherever he went — and knew that she didn’t want any other students suffering the same fate.

_What would have happened if someone else had found him? Someone_ died _here._ And she knew she didn’t want _that_ following the entire student body wherever they went.

“Look,” said Sadayo. “Here’s what I understand from what you told me: you think that the Phantom Thief killed Mr. Kamoshida, and now you’re hunting down the person who hired him to do the job.”

“That’s correct,” said Niijima.

“You know, I might not have a fancy degree in this kind of stuff like you do, but I’m pretty sure a high school rumor isn’t going to hold up as evidence in a court of law.”

To her surprise, Niijima chuckled. “Well, you’re certainly right about that.”

Sadayo raised an eyebrow. “So why even bother?”

Niijima’s expression softened. For a moment, she looked smaller, somehow — more vulnerable than her tall stature and profession suggested. “If I can stop this from happening to even one more person, I’d like to… even if it seems like I’m running on a fool’s errand now.”

Sadayo sighed heavily. “You and me both, kid.” She stood up and pushed in her chair, and pat Niijima’s shoulder twice as she walked past her, promising herself to pick up more shifts in the following week. “Talk to me after school,” she said. “You’ll have my undivided attention then.”

* * *

 

Ryuji Sakamoto hated being stared at. It didn’t matter who it was that did the staring — the intent was the same, and the whispered conversations thereafter, thinly veiled and not at all subtle, made his blood boil. On any normal day, he would have told the busybodies to mind their own damn business and leave him alone, and then he would go about his merry way and think about manga, or video games, or what his mother was cooking for dinner that night.

But today wasn’t any normal day. Today, the police were here again, investigating a crime that Ryuji knew he didn’t commit, but wouldn’t put it past the student body and school faculty to pin on him anyway. He wasn’t the only student to hate Kamoshida, but he was the most vocal about his hatred — not to mention, there was the entire former track team to consider that certainly hated _Ryuji_ enough — and that made him a target by default. So when his classmates whispered about him and sent nasty looks his way, Ryuji grit his teeth together and clenched his fists, but said nothing in return. 

It was so damned _unfair_.

After school, a girl approached his desk. On any other day, or were it anyone else, he would have been flattered by the attention. “Hey Suzui,” he greeted her with a sigh. “What’s up?”

Supposedly, volleyball team members of all ranks were taking a sort of break. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Shiho Suzui was still in the classroom at the end of the school day, instead of at practice, and yet he couldn’t help but wonder why she was wasting her precious time off on someone like him. “Sakamoto-kun…” she said slowly, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “Um… Are you doing okay?”

The question didn’t catch him off guard — Suzui was notorious for being nice to everyone, even to the people that weren’t nice to her — but a warm feeling blossomed in his gut all the same. “Thanks for asking, Suzui,” he said, grinning at her. “I’m fine. I know I didn’t do anything wrong, and that’s good enough for me.”

She gave him a strange, crooked smile and let out a tiny giggle. “It’s kind of scary how the police are here again, isn’t it?” she asked. _It’s okay_ , was probably what she meant to say. _You don’t have to put on a brave face._

“Yeah, definitely,” Ryuji replied, “but things are looking up, aren’t they? Kamoshida’s gone! That means he can’t bully you guys anymore!”

“Please don’t say things like that so openly, Sakamoto-kun,” Suzui said, her expression suddenly stern. 

Logically, he knew she was right. The school’s walls had ears, and there was no one in the faculty he and Suzui could count on to have his back. “I’m serious,” he said more quietly. “How are you doing? Any better now that he’s out of your life?”

Her lips twitched into a tiny smile. “I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t the case,” she said. “You really should be careful, though. I heard the police are desperate to pin this on one of us.” She stood up and slung her school bag over her shoulder. “I’m not the only one who’s worried about you, you know. Ann won’t shut up about you.”

“T-Takamaki?” Ryuji yelped, and he felt his cheeks grow very warm. “Aw, shucks. You guys don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine!” It was all meaningless words, but they were all he had.

Shiho gave him one last pained smile before walking out the door. “I certainly hope so.”

* * *

 

Sae waited patiently at Kawakami’s desk in the staff lounge the minute the last bell rang. Perhaps it was foolish of her to be investing so much time in this — to ask Akechi, of all people, to cover for her while she did — but the thought of someone at this school vindictive enough to hire a hitman made her feel uneasy, to put it lightly. Then there was the fact that her sister was a student here, under the same roof on a daily basis as this person, the student council president who no doubt incurred the wrath of at least one other person on this campus…

Sae shook her head to rid herself of the thought. Makoto had done nothing wrong — Sae would have heard of it by now if she did. There was also that dream to consider, of that man with the long nose and the unnamed guest of that room swathed in blue velvet who so desperately needed her help…

“Sorry I’m late,” Kawakami said breathlessly as she slid into her chair. The stack of papers and file folders she was holding fell onto the desk gracelessly, sliding off each other into an indistinguishable mess that the teacher would no doubt hate sorting through later. “I’ve got this new student, and his record’s not great but he’s on cleaning duty today, so I had to supervise him for a bit, and then…”

Sae didn’t comment on how unprofessional it was for Kawakami to be complaining about her job to a complete stranger, but the more the teacher talked, the less tension seemed to linger in her shoulders and the less she clenched her jaw. “About Mr. Kamoshida…” Sae prompted.

“Right,” said Kawakami. “I know one student here who had enough beef with him that he’d call on the Phantom Thief to do the job.”

Sae raised one eyebrow. “Oh? That was fast.”

“There’s no evidence, of course, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t arrest him on the spot,” Kawakami continued. “I’m just saying that if you’re looking for a student with enough of a motive, then this one is probably your best bet.” She waved her hand, gesturing Sae to come closer. Sae glanced at the other teacher that had griped at Kawakami during her last visit, Ms. Chouno, who pointedly stared down at her work to hide how obvious it was that she was listening in on their conversation.

Kawakami reached for the file folder on the top of the pile on her desk and pulled out a photograph. On it, a boy with dyed blonde hair glared up at the camera, his teeth gritted together in what the Director would surely consider a display of murderous rage. “Ryuji Sakamoto,” she whispered. “He used to be the star of the track team, but then last year, he assaulted Mr. Kamoshida. The track team was later disbanded, and supposedly, no one who used to be on it speaks to him anymore.”

Sae frowned. “Why did he assault Mr. Kamoshida?”

“Mr. Kamoshida was the coach of the track team at the time, and I guess Sakamoto-kun thought he wasn’t doing a good enough job?” Kawakami mused. “Mr. Kamoshida told me it was something like that. I know it’s only one side to the story, but it’s all I know of the situation.”

Really, it wasn’t like there were any other leads. “Can you take me to Sakamoto-kun?” Sae asked.

“If he’s still here,” Kawakami answered. She led Sae to the second-year classrooms, to a room inhabited only by a girl with wavy blonde pigtails and a dark-haired girl wearing a ponytail. The two girls looked up at them as they entered the room, their eyes narrowing in suspicion at Sae. 

The blonde girl moved first, positioning herself in front of the dark-haired girl with her brow set in an almost-frown. It was a protective position, though whether she was aware of it or not, Sae couldn’t tell. “Can we help you?” the girl asked.

“I didn’t expect to find you here, Takamaki-san,” said Kawakami. 

The blonde girl, Takamaki, shrugged. “Shiho’s on cleaning duty today,” was all she said. The dark-haired girl, presumably Shiho, seemed to cower for a moment behind her.

“We’re looking for Sakamoto-kun,” Kawakami said calmly. “Have either of you seen him?”

“N-Not since class ended…” Shiho stammered.

Takamaki, on the other hand, scowled and slammed her fist down on the nearest desk. “I don’t believe this!” she shouted. “Sakamoto didn’t do it, so back off!”

“You sound awfully sure of that,” Sae quipped.

“Yeah, because I know Sakamoto!” Takamaki shot back. “He’s an idiot, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“Well he already did, it seems,” Sae replied calmly. 

“If you’re talking about what happened with Kamoshida—“ Takamaki started.

“Unless you know of someone else who could be responsible for this—“ Sae cut her off.

“Kamoshida was a monster!” Takamaki shrieked. “He acted like this whole school was his castle and he was the king… like we were just his _prisoners_ in the dungeons…” Her voice began to shake, and she looked away sharply from Sae and blinked several times rapidly in quick succession. “Come on, Shiho. Let’s just go.” She grabbed the dark-haired girl’s hand and walked out of the classroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Sae pulled her phone from her pocket and checked the time — the last bell had rung nearly half an hour ago, and it was getting increasingly unlikely that they would be able to speak with Sakamoto that day. She didn’t notice the app on the main screen, that she’d surely deleted a week ago. “Prisoners… in a dungeon…” she said quietly to herself.

“I’m so sorry about that,” said Kawakami. “Takamaki-san’s usually such a nice girl…”

Sae gave her a small smile. “Perhaps that’s why she reacted the way she did. And that other girl…”

“Shiho Suzui?” Kawakami supplied. “She’s pretty quiet usually, so… What the hell?”

The room began swirling around them, colors and shapes blurring together into an indistinguishable mess. Dizzily, Sae dropped to one knee, using one hand to brace herself against the ground and rested her head in the palm of her other hand as she waited for it all to stop. When it finally did, what awaited her was someplace dark and cold, water dripping from the ceiling onto the hard stone ground, chains rattling behind thick metal bars separating them from people wearing Shujin’s school uniform.

“Th-This isn’t the school…” Kawakami mumbled, covering her mouth with one hand.

Sae stood up and wrapped her fingers around one of the metal bars. Makoto wasn’t one of the students inside. “I don’t think we’re at Shujin anymore,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the shenanigans of real life, updates will (probably) continue to be slow. Stay tuned...?


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